Dysphoria
by tea and sugar for two
Summary: Roxas is trapped in the realm of darkness leaving behind a decaying Xion and a desperate Axel who is willing to take any step necessary to retrieve him. This will contain horror elements as well as akuroku shipping, especially as the story progresses.
1. Unraveling

She was no longer herself. The distorted beast staring mindlessly out of its glassy prison would never compare to what she once was. Not that she really knew, but she was sure she didn't use to be this way. Ugliness like this didn't exactly come about naturally. The shriveled gouge which once formed light delicate lips were flecked with sanguine flecks of decaying flesh and spittle and she couldn't bear to look at her skin. No. She was content, for the moment, to continue staring onward at the smoke streaked mirror watching as her mouth slowly folded in on itself. You see, Xion was dead. And yet, dying. But, death wasn't what she desired, although she didn't mind it so much…she just…

"You look like shit."

Vacant eyes finally ended the staring contest, tearing away from their captor and shifting toward another. The very sight of his flawlessly smooth skin brought sour vomit up her raw throat, ripping familiar streaks of pain through her. Shaking her head, desperately crawling out of an endless trance, Xion flipped up her hood, promptly zipping it closed.

"Thanks."

They both lingered for a moment, his pristine mouth pulling back into a grimace as he took in the perfume which was Xion's decaying body. His cold eyes penetrated into her as if they were searching to see through her thick layers. They brandished a reserved sort of curiosity, equal parts of disgust and fascination.

"Do you have it."

Xion's voice was choppy, having the timbre of a boat scraping against a rock as it fought against stormy waves. His grimace broke into a crooked smirk.

"Xi. Xi. Xiiiii. It's always the same with you."

He ran a lithe hand through his exquisitely arranged locks.

"Aren't you getting tired of this dance?"

Xion stood silently, focusing on how to scratch the itch on her hand without tearing any extraneous skin off. "Do you have it." She prodded again, the delicate hold over her anxiety starting to shatter. Groaning loudly, he crossed his arms.

"You're no fun anymore…."

He unfolded a thin parcel, tucked into the sleeve of his streamlined coat.

"Here. Take it."

Pouncing on the package, Xion ripped it away from his hand. Tearing the thin paper off of the bottle she pressed it to her torn mouth, downing the purple contents in one horrendous gulp. Not bothering to look away, he sighed once again with gusto, his eyes settling on the misshapen mirror.

"Xion. Have… have you contacted him recently?"

Collecting herself, she flopped back into her chair, joining him in locking eyes with the mirror.

"I saw him a few nights ago but…he couldn't speak this time."

Breaking contact with the mirror, she rested her hand tentatively on his, her voice cracking from what may have been sorrow if she could feel that sort of thing.

"He's getting weaker."

Not moving his hand, he nodded. All signs of smirks and grimaces wiped from his dismal expression.

"I see."

After a moment of silence, Axel's hand reached up to touch the mirror and unable to sense anything through the filthy glass he fell away, stepping through a dark portal. His hand clutched the necklace around his neck, feeling more solitary than usual.

Watching Xion from the other side of the mirror, a deep sickness burst inside him: a starburst emanating pus from his gut all the way through to mangled fingertips. As he joined her in their unending staring ritual, his teeth ground, aching terribly with each minute that passed by. He knew that she could no longer see him, and frankly he didn't care. He just wanted her to set him free. But. He knew she wouldn't. Xion was lost at this point, possibly more than he was.

He dared to look at his translucent face in the mirror; like a meal worm which had been left out far too long in the sun, the skin around Roxas' jaundiced face crinkled in on itself, pulsing slightly with each labored breath. Green veins garnished the only recognizable feature on him, his eyes, which desperately focused on Xion, daring to catch her attention in any way.

He spat. Tired. Tired of the mirror. Tired of this shit hole which never ceased to smell like sulfur. Tired of not seeing…The static hit. Harder than usual this time. A deep current flowed through him, burning into his flesh, blackening the tips of his otherwise opaque fingertips. Scarring them further. He bent his head back and held his breath, taking it in, focusing on the swirling blue cosmos above him. It was easier to bear it this way, he'd realized after one too many punishing shocks. The current was still sizzling his blood vessels when the pain began to ebb, allowing him to see the room in more detail.

Helpless, he watched on as Xion locked eyes once again. Her prison seemed far harsher than his in many ways and yet, he didn't care. There she sat. Refusing to do her part, refusing to do the one this she could to set him free. He hated her for this. Roxas was tormented by the demand for freedom, and yet he couldn't bring himself to subject Xion to this. He made this choice, not her. As time passed he found struggled to remind himself of this fact. But, he couldn't ignore the truth. He didn't have the right.

He felt himself collapsing under his own monstrous rage as he continued to throw his body against the mirror, as always his body phased through the space, fizzling like a busted monitor. He seethed, his mind blanking out as he transformed into a rabid animal, his fists pummeling wildly at the sour glass. Spittle flew from his mouth as he shrieked once more. A guttural plea rising in his throat once more.

"Please….Xion. I want to go home."

And then, _he_ appeared. Roxas' fists clenched tight, disregarding any thoughts of forgiveness. While he and Xion crumbled with each breath, Axel's features had changed little, excepting his eyes. Where there had been hope and ideas there only lay desperation peppered with its dear friend, exhaustion. As he flew through the mirror he came to a stop. His fists balling impossibly tighter. His pain ceased to matter. He wanted out. Throwing himself against the twisted mirror, his fists crashing into the swirling glass before him, each thrust dissipating his hand, blinding him with burning pain. Selfishly, he scream out at him, his name ripping through his throat. Reaching no one. Still he begged.

"Let me out! Let me out right now!"

He continued to throw his body against the mirror, as always phasing through the space, fizzling like a busted monitor. Exhausted, his hand passing through it a final time. His resolve disintegrated.

"Why won't you look at me?"

And as he reached up to touch the glass he unwittingly, automatically and emphatically did the same. He pressed it as deep into the horrid trap as he could, grimacing as another wave of electricity flew through him blistering his blackened fingers. But. For a brief moment, he was able to hold it up to his hand. For a moment they were together.


	2. Don't Romanticize Pickled Eyes

Vexen's Lab was unlike any other place within the wall the castle that never was. Where in most areas there were soiled corners and dark corridors contrasting against the nearly alien glowing whiteness, his lab was practically sterling, with of course the odd addition that decorated his walls. While there was no doubt that Vexen maintained the cleanest space out of all of the Organization members, he did seem to have a certain allure when it came to pickling things. Particularly, the remains of his subjects that were no longer able to serve a functional purpose. Stark metal shelving units lined every wall in the dank room climbing to the ceiling, each crammed with jars of expired organization patrons, their curious eyes seeming to hone in on Vexen's operation table eager to invite the newer subjects to join them within their glass cages. In all honesty Vexen was a bit of a hoarder when it came to his victims; he reasoned that since they were so difficult to obtain, that it was necessary to be frugal when disposing with the leftovers. Beyond all of this, the thing that creeped Axel out the most was Vexen's propensity to hang puppets from the ceiling. The feet dangled lifelessly, almost seeming like they'd hung themselves in order to escape their fate. Despite his desperate attempts to keep the space pure, there was a certain dampness that enveloped everything in the room. The atmosphere was that of a slimy cavern.

Axel finally forced himself to enter the room, his bared face instantly shocked by the cold interior. His breath lingered in the air, trailing like puffs of smoke with each exhalation. The creature which voluntarily rested against the icy table grinned up at Axel, crooning through a mouthful of cracked teeth. "We're playing a game. Care to join us?" Axel held a twisted grimace, prying his arm away from the feathery grasp of Vexen's newest victim. "I'll take a rain check."

Vexen, meanwhile, was elbow deep in said victim's gut. Long blonde strands of hair clouded a jaundiced complexion, while he was preoccupied with his rather brittle subject. It was several minutes before Vexen acknowledged Axel, prying back a thin flap of skin Vexen began to saw away at the subject's ribs, tiny shards of dried up bone flaking into the chest cavity, falling through the mounds of flesh piled within.

"Can't you see I'm busy?"

Vexen jerked his crusty head upwards peering up at Axel through a curtain of dried hay, sharing both the look of a barn's floor as well as the odor. Although Axel had known Vexen for far longer than anyone needed to know a person, unfortunately, he was still shocked by the the amalgamation of wrinkles and faded liver spots which garnished the aged man's face. It didn't help that the man was peppered with the blood of his subject who continued to chat amiably to no one and everyone in particular about the lovely swirls his intestines made when he churned them with his frail fingers.

"Oh Vexen, no need for pleasantries."

Axel croons, crossing his arms to avoid the attempts of Vexen's subject as it desperately tries to graze him. He pries the creature's withered claws off his arm noting that tiny particles of dead gray flesh remained, contrasting against the sleek leather of his coat. He dusts it off contemptuously, rolling his smaragdine eyes backward.

"I just washed this damn thing. Vexen, do try to keep your experiments to yourself."

Vexen refuses to respond, instead he produces a syringe from his coat pocket and taps it against his wrist, pushing a translucent liquid out of it. Thin blonde eyebrows jenk up in determination, as he steadies his spidery fingers, wrapping them around the elongated syringe.

"Well. I don't recall inviting you to intrude upon _my_ lab."

With this he roughly pulls the flap of skin even further off the asset's chest, little strings of fiber tearing off as the creature is played like an over enthusiastic chicken. The asset's heart is fully revealed, beating erratically. Vexen is forced to slap its hands away from the pulsing organ as it attempts to jab it, curiosity overtaking its demented pleasure. Without hesitation, Vexen plunges the needle into its purpling heart. It smiles like a blithering dolt as a surge wracks its body. It contorts as muscle spasms strike, the laughter that rings out across the lab turns to screams as its biological matter begins to destabilize; the creature smiles brighter with each new wave of pain and its very form crumbles to dust before them.

Vexen's typically devastated with a side of exhaustion expression blossoms into an unsettling smile as he quickly jots down the results, muttering something about going in the right direction. Axel covers his mouth with a tightly gloved hand as he chokes on the dust particles which float into the air like caustic glitter, his face growing dour with each new fit. He leers in between spasms.

"I'd love nothing more than to stay and chat but unlike your illustriousness I have places to be."

"Then do us both a favor and leave. I believe you know the exit."

"And I believe you owe me what I came here for, dear superior."

Vexen's crackled lips draw from a thin line to a fine point; a period in a plane of crags and crevices which seemed to rise and fall across his aged face like a mountain range of wrinkles and devastated skin. He ceases scratching notes into his clipboard and taps his pen on the edge.

"I haven't got the time to devote to your trivial demands."

"Then I suggest you make the time. Unless you want Xemnas to find out about your little side project." Axel hisses as he twists toward Vexen, sliding the clipboard away from the older man. "It'd be such a shame if your such significant research was discontinued. Although, that's the least of your worries if-" Axel flips through the pages roughly, his fingers ever threatening to rip a page out. Vexen sputters, his voice a raw shriek that would make a raven sound melodious by comparison.

"What do you know of research! Your infinitesimally small mind could never wrap around what I am trying to achieve here!"

Axel barely manages to withhold his irritation as Vexen continues to blather on about the necessity of his processes, instead focussing his attention on the clipboard. As Vexen finally tires himself out from his colicky tantrum Axel turns the clipboard around in his hand, a small smirk belying his intentions with the precious materials held within.

"Right. Since you can't seem to understand the gravity of your situation, we're going to play it my way."

With this Axel shreds a single sheet of notes off the board and holds it up in the air, gloating over his trophy. "What do you think you're doing?!" Vexen reaches forward to grab it and the thin paper ignites, quickly transforming into a pile of ash in Axel's hand.

"Oops. I'm so clumsy…"

"Fine, you loathsome oaf! You'll get your potion. But don't expect it sooner than tomorrow morning. These things take time. "

"See? Was that really so hard?" Axel gives off his most glittering smile. "It's all about communication." He carelessly tosses the board to the side, allowing the rest of the notes to flutter downward around the examination table where they quickly soak up the remnants of Vexen's most recent endeavor. Without another word Axel walks through the door, pleased to escape the dreks of the laboratory, and away from the pickled eyes that seem to follow him from every corner of the room.

There are another pair of eyes far more unsettling that Axel failed to pick up on, which had been a silent audience to the flamboyant performance that he and Vexen had provided, and the man behind them was less than amused. A low voice cracks, penetrating the stillness of the lab as he makes himself known.

"Vexen. You realize I'm going to have to report this."


End file.
